To See You Smile
by cecilyjones
Summary: How Pilot joined the Soldiers of the Future. A companion piece to my How Pilot Left the Dread Youth story.


To See You Smile

(or How Pilot Joined the Team)

by Cecily

Power slammed his hand on the keypad to close the ramp door. "Pilot, get us out of here!"

The ship rose smoothly and rocketed up. They lurched, evading ground fire. With any luck the biodread wouldn't track them.

That luck was with them. In moments, they were flying level, no turbulence and no blaster fire. The Captain entered the cabin and stopped, surprised.

Jennifer Chase, the Dread Youth defector, was flying the jumpship.

"Where's Hawk?" he said, perhaps more harshly than he'd meant.

"Injured," the young woman said.

The bottom dropped out of his gut. "Is he all right?"

"I think so. The others are with him, in the hold."

Scout and Tank were with Hawk, good. However, that left her to fly the ship.

She'd asked to fight with them. She offered to trade information for the privilege of inflicting damage on Dread. So far, she'd done well. Her knowledge of the inner workings of Dread's forces had been invaluable. And she fought well. Furiously well, with the true passion of the converted. He had no doubt she wanted to see Dread brought down. Even now, her jaw was taut with anger.

She glanced at him over her shoulder, the merest flicker of her expression before turning her attention back to her controls. "Why did you call me Pilot?"

Sometimes, she was almost inhuman. Jon was constantly surprised at what she didn't know, what basic human experiences she had no concept of. Like slang, or nicknames.

"It's a nickname. I thought Hawk was flying the ship. When he is, he's the pilot. So I said pilot."

"Oh." She looked thoughtful a moment, frowning.

Scout appeared from the hold. "You okay, Captain? Are we clear?"

"Yeah. How's Hawk?"

"A little fried. A couple days' rest should have him right. Chase here did a fine job pulling us out of the fire."

"So I noticed."

She glanced briefly at them in response to the compliment. That was all.

Scout pursed his lips. Jon knew that look--he was getting ready to take up a challenge. He said, "You know, Captain, Hawk's a great pilot. But Chase here, she's a natural. I'm thinking what this outfit's needed all along is a woman's touch." He waited. Still no reaction. A little louder, he said, "I mean, she's way better looking than the rest of us. No offense, Captain."

Power chuckled. "None taken."

Her expression remained pensive--annoyed, even.

Scout muttered, "I swear, I'm going to make that kid laugh if it kills me."

"I'd settle for a smile."

He kicked her out of the pilot's seat, and Scout blindfolded her for the trip home. She didn't need to know the base's location quite yet.

-------

Power called the other three members of his team to the control room for a meeting.

Ostensibly, this was a military unit, and he was in charge. What he said was law. But with a group this small, that usually wasn't practical. He trusted these three men with his life. He wouldn't have had them on the team otherwise. He depended on their advice and knowledge as much as on their firepower. If they disagreed with him on something, he listened. He couldn't afford not to. For all his bravado, he felt in over his head most of the time.

"What's up, Captain?" Scout said.

"We've talked about adding another team member. We have three more suits, and we could definitely use the help. There's room. But I won't take anyone unless we all agree."

Hawk said, "Who do you have in mind?"

He waited a moment, looked at each of them. None of them seemed surprised or confused; they knew what was going to say. "Jennifer Chase."

No one put up an argument. He was half-hoping someone would. That they didn't only confirmed his own instinct. Maybe it really was time.

"She's only been on a few missions with us. Not only has she done remarkably well, we're coming to depend on her. We've started taking her into account on mission plans. If she's going to stay, she should be official. If we can't take that step, we need to send her to another group. I want to hear what you all think."

Scout shrugged. "She's good. She knows the ins and outs of every gadget and computer I throw at her. She's a pilot, a mechanic, a hacker. Her training was impeccable--but what else would you expect from someone raised by a machine?"

Hawk spoke next. "Scout's right, she has a knack for everything mechanical. I don't know if that's from growing up in the Dread Youth, but we could use her skills. _If_ we can trust her."

That was the question. Taking her--a former Dread Youth--could be a huge risk. If word got out, her presence might even damage their standing with other resistance groups.

Tank, as always, spoke deliberately and to the point. "There's a good person in there. I can see it. But she's still in a shell. She hasn't come out yet."

That was the other problem. However much they might want her on the team, if she joined them before she was ready, the results could be disastrous.

They all felt a little protective of her. No surprise there. They'd found her when she deserted the Dread Youth during a battle. She'd been lost, angry, fighting from the first moment they met her. They took her in--hadn't had much choice. She'd had no where to go, and their creed was to preserve life. She quickly proved useful, and fascinating. Jon had never met anyone like her, from her inhuman upbringing in Dread's machine world, to her voracious need to learn everything she could about her new world.

Jon crossed his arms and leaned against the consol. "She's strong. To survive what she's been through and still be on her feet--it's been amazing, watching her discover a new world. She's becoming a new person before our eyes. But Tank's right. She's not whole, yet. I don't know if she ever will be."

Scout smirked. "Are any of us really whole? We've all lost pieces of ourselves along the way."

Hawk said, "It's more than that. She's angry all the time. Unless she learns to control that, she's a danger to herself, and the rest of us. We don't need a suicide bomber."

"If she were that, she's had a dozen chances already," Scout said.

"Suggestions on how we crack that shell?" Jon said.

"She's spent all her time here fighting," Hawk said. "There's got to be a way to show her that there's more to life than that. Maybe she needs a hobby."

Scout shrugged. "Maybe she just needs. . .I don't know. A sense of humor?"

That was it exactly, Jon thought. It seemed ironic, in this day and age, to tell someone that they needed to lighten up.

"Are you still game for that challenge you issued?" Jon said to him.

"Which one?"

"If you can get her to smile, she's on the team."

Slowly, a wide grin grew on his face. "You're on, Captain."

Jon looked at each of them. "Agreed?"

They nodded, then Hawk said, "It's got to be the strangest initiation I've ever heard of."

---------

Scout watched Chase at a worktable in the command room, repairing comm equipment.

He'd have to get her now. While she was off-guard.

He picked up a wrench.

"What are you doing?" Hawk said, looking vaguely worried.

"Mentor? Let's have some Sinatra."

"Specify," the computer replied.

"Play 'Fly Me to the Moon.'" At this, Hawk rolled his eyes. Tank raised his eyebrows.

The sweet strains of the two hundred year old crooner filled the base's command room. Scout struck a pose, ready for that first note.

"'Fly me to the moon and let me sing among the stars. . .'" He sang along with the recording, holding the wrench up like it was a microphone. He danced, swayed with the music, hamming it up as much as he knew how.

"I wouldn't quit your day job," Tank observed.

The kid was watching him. Her expression was focused, furrowed with confusion. She didn't look amused.

"'. . .in other words, hold my hand. . .'" This was his best Sinatra impression ever and she still wasn't smiling.

Then came the big instrumental part, with the trumpets. She walked over to them, pointed to the computer speakers, and asked, "What's that sound? That voice?"

Scout stopped dancing. "What? You mean Frank?"

"Frank?"

"The guy singing."

"Singing?"

Scout stared, flabbergasted.

Hawk saved him. "It's music," he said, watching her carefully. "You've never heard music before, have you?"

"I've never heard anything like it before." She narrowed her gaze, looked quizzically at him. "Music?"

Hoo boy, Scout thought. This was going to be way harder than he thought.

"Music," he stated.

She listened, her head cocked. Scout waited, holding his breath, for her response. Finally, she said, "It's. . .nice."

It was a good start. He leapt to the challenge. "There's all kinds of music. Uh, Mentor, stop playback. Let's have something else, something totally different. Opera? Stories told with music. You like stories, right? Mentor--play an aria. Something really classic."

Mentor played the aria from _Madame Butterfly_.

The human voice soared in its art. It filled every corner of the room. Scout and the others watched Chase. Like she was a bomb that might go off. He had no idea how she'd react.

The tension left her face. It was strange to watch--she so seldom let her guard down. The lines softened, her lips parted--if it wasn't a smile, at least it wasn't a frown anymore. She bent her head and listened, eyes closed.

The piece ended with a note of despair, held high and long, while the music surged around it. Chase opened her eyes and looked back at the others with frank amazement.

"She sounds so. . .so sad. Why?"

Solemnly, Scout said, "Mentor. Tell the story."

Chase sank into a chair by the computer terminal, listening while Mentor told the story.

------------

Jon walked in on an argument. Chase's voice was the most evident, tense and insistent, He wondered if she'd finally gone over the edge, lost her temper, let her anger burst.

But no: he paused at the doorway of the command room and saw Chase and his three team members, sitting in chairs gathered together near Mentor's terminal. It wasn't an argument, but a lively discussion.

"I still don't understand," Chase said, her expression earnest, her eyes flashing. "Why'd she do it?"

"He broke her heart. She couldn't live without him." Hawk sat back in his chair, his arms crossed. He seemed to be enjoying himself.

Chase frowned. "That isn't logical. It doesn't make any sense."

"You're right," Hawk said, chuckling.

"Powerful emotions usually don't make any sense," Scout added.

"It was a waste. He shouldn't have left her. It was disloyal. Dishonorable. Even when he did he should have stopped her from killing herself--why didn't he?" She seemed to fume. "It makes me so _angry_."

"Hey," Tank said. "It's only a story. It didn't really happen."

"Then why does it make me feel like this?" She looked at each of them, her fierce eyes demanding an answer. None of them could give her one. Chase sighed and slouched. "There's so much I don't understand."

Progress. She was making so much progress, she had to understand that. Maybe she didn't smile because she was working so hard to learn.

Jon decided it was time to announce himself. "Did I miss something?"

"No," Tank said with a huff. "Opera."

Scout hopped from his seat. "Chase here's never heard music. So, we're playing some. Mentor--play something happy. Let's go back to Sinatra." He picked up a wrench sitting on the computer and went into performance mode.

"'Volare! Woh-oh-oh-oh!'" Scout sang along with the recording, swaying with the beat.

Jon grinned. The guy was downright _merry_. Hawk covered his mouth to stifle a laugh. Tank smirked, ready to let loose with a quip.

Chase watched closely, like she was studying him, her eyes narrowed, her lips pursed. She leaned forward with a sense of vague longing.

Almost, it was worse than her not smiling at all. It was like she wanted to smile, but didn't know how.

---------

"Fall back! We hit 'em hard, now let's get out of here!"

Tank laid down cover fire, harassing the advancing line of biomechs while Power and Scout retreated to the jumpship. They'd gotten the data they were looking for, and their welcome was far outworn. Outnumbered, outgunned--definitely time to leave.

"Captain!" Hawk called at him over the radio. "Biodread spotted from the south!"

"Got it, Hawk. We're just leaving."

Finally, the three of them reached the jumpship. Chase was outside, by the ship's door, holding a blaster ready to cover them. With Hawk patrolling the perimeter, she was the designated pilot this mission.

They were treating her like one of the team. But without a power suit, she was vulnerable. She shouldn't even be outside the ship. He was about to reprimand her when she yelled.

"Captain, behind you!"

Immediately, she fired, over his shoulder, to a doorway that had emerged from solid rock--a hidden bunker, perfect for an ambush. A unit of biomechs marched out, shooting. Power, turned, crouched, and laid down his own fire.

"Tank, Scout, move it!" Power called over the radio. A minute later, the two were on the ship.

Half the biomechs were down, writhing on the ground. Power dashed for the ship's ramp.

Chase straightened, standing totally exposed, gun held in both hands, firing at the remaining biomechs.

"Chase! Jennifer! _Fall back!_" he shouted at her.

"I have to get them all," she said, calmly and intently. True to her word, she carefully aimed and fired, and every shot found a target.

He wasn't having any of this. "Chase, move it! Now!" He grabbed the collar of her flak vest and hauled back.

She stumbled, brought her gun up--for a heart-stopping moment he thought she was going to shoot _him_. But she recovered quickly and followed him up the ramp.

The ship was already powered up, and in another moment they were airborne, biomech laser blasts ricocheting off the hull.

------------

He waited until the others had left the ship to dress her down in private.

"Your orders were to stay on the ship. I expect you to follow orders. Never forget, you're here out of the goodness of my heart and no other reason. I can change my mind any time I want and ship you off to be cannon fodder with some other unit!"

She kept her gaze downcast, and her hands locked behind her back. "I suspected the ambush. You needed the extra firepower."

"If you suspected an ambush why didn't you tell me about it ahead of time?" Scowling, he turned away and started pacing. Only three steps crossed the confines of the cabin and he had to turn back. "It almost looks like you're _trying_ to get yourself killed."

She didn't say anything. Her jaw was taut, with everything she wasn't saying.

Exasperated, he said, "How much of Dread will you have to break before you stop being angry? How long until that rage is satisfied?"

Her gaze flashed to him, and the look he saw there wasn't anger--surprise, anguish, but not anger.

"I'm not. . .I mean--" She stopped, swallowed. "I'm not angry. Not _just_ angry, anymore. It's--I can't explain it. I did terrible things. I let terrible things happen. I let people die. How long until I make up for that? I'm a terrible person, but I want to be good. I finally see what good is, and I have so much lost time to make up for." She looked away then, and almost too quietly to hear, said, "I'm sorry."

Jon realized he didn't have a clue what she was going through. He liked to think he did, he acted like he did. But she was all alone in a world he couldn't fathom.

She didn't have to be alone. How could he convince her that she wasn't alone?

He sighed, the self-righteous commanderly wind knocked out of his sails. "Jennifer. You _are_ a good person. As far as I'm concerned, you don't have anything to make up for. The moment you left Dread, you rejected everything that came before. Now--you've got your whole life ahead of you. And there's more to this life than fighting Dread. I wish I could show you that. Because that's really what we're fighting for."

"For music," she said. "And stories."

"Yeah. Among other things. Let's go get supper."

---------------

Jon and Chase passed from the galley to the common area, which served as the base's dining hall. Mismatched chairs were grouped around an ancient, rickety table. The two brought their plates over and sat with Scout and Hawk, who were already eating.

Scout was sketching something in invisible lines on the tabletop with his fingertip. "It's an optical illusion--the holographic imagery doesn't have to be perfect, just good enough to fool anyone looking at it. You only have to project enough of an image that the brain can fill in the blanks."

Jon glanced at Chase. "Scout's latest science project."

The young man beamed up at them. "Holographic camouflage for the jumpship. It'll turn the ship into a pile of rocks to the casual observer."

Chase raised her brow. "Sounds useful.

Hawk said, "I'm not convinced. Your suit's holographic unit only lasts a few minutes at a time. How long do you expect to hide the ship?"

"I've been working on it," he said defensively. "It just so happens I have a miniature prototype." He raised a finger. "I'll go get it and show you. Wait right here."

Without further ado he sprang from his seat and dashed to the galley door--and ran headlong into Tank.

Must have felt like hitting a wall; Tank didn't even flinch. However, the plate of food he was holding flew up, spilling stew over his shirt, Scout's jumpsuit, the floor. Scout stumbled back, arms flailing for balance--also, he might have been trying to make a hasty retreat from the mountain of a man who was now glaring at him.

Too many movements attempted at once--Scout started to tumble backwards. Tank grabbed his arm, pulled him upright--and kept hold of him.

Scout grinned nervously. "Hey, Big Guy. How's it going?"

For a minute, Tank looked like he might break something--a ludicrous scene, considering the stew splattering the front of his shirt.

Then he said, "It's your turn to do laundry, right?"

Jon bit his cheeks, but it couldn't keep the smile off his face. Hawk was even less successful, despite his hand in front of his mouth.

Then, he heard a muffled, feminine giggle from across the table.

Jennifer Chase watched the scene with sparkling gray eyes, wrinkled at the corners, her mouth pursed with a smile on the verge of breaking free.

Then, it did.

"Hey!" Scout said. An amazed Tank let him loose. "You're laughing!"

"I'm sorry," she said, gasping a little as the giggling continued, unbidden. "But you should have seen the look on your face!" She put her hand over her mouth and hiccupped.

"No, don't stop, this is the best sound I've heard all week!"

She glanced at Jon. "That _was_ funny, right?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Yes it was."

Tank had started dabbing at the mess with a towel. "I'm so glad you could all have this moment of amusement at my expense."

None of them could stop giggling after that.

Jennifer's eyes were watering, and her smile never dimmed. She wiped away tears. "I can't stop," she said. "Is this normal?"

"Yeah," Jon said, happy and relieved. She was going to make it.

Scout crossed his arms and nodded at the Captain. "I _told_ you I'd make her laugh."


End file.
